


Always One Foot on the Ground

by Sena



Category: Bandom, Panic At The Disco
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Coming Out, Coming of Age, First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-12
Updated: 2011-01-12
Packaged: 2017-10-14 16:54:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 20,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/151444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sena/pseuds/Sena
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In his first few months of college Spencer has figures out that he really does like guys, that his best friend and roommate, Ryan, has terrible taste in women, and this random guy he meets named Brendon is kind of ridiculously hot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Always One Foot on the Ground

**Author's Note:**

> written for the [Bandomstuffsit](http://community.livejournal.com/bandomstuffsit/) fic exchange

It's a weird way to do it, Spencer knows. He knows he could just ask Ryan to hook him up with somebody. He knows he could wait, too, knows he could find a boyfriend and wait until it means something more that just getting off. But that's not what he wants, so he loses his virginity on a Wednesday afternoon to a guy he vaguely knows.

They'd met at a party a couple weeks before, and Spencer had been drunk enough to be flirty. They'd exchanged numbers and Spencer mostly forgot about it.

He gets a text on a Wednesday afternoon that says _u shuld come over_ and Spencer knows what he's getting into when he agrees. The guy lives a couple blocks off campus and Spencer shoves his hands in his jacket pockets as he walks because they're shaking.

The guy's name is in Spencer's phone as _Maarfil_. Spencer's about 99% sure the guy's name isn't really Maarfil, that nobody in the entire world is named Maarfil, and that Spencer has to pay more attention when he's trying to flirt and drink and put names into his phone all at the same time. He doesn't remember what the guy's name actually is.

It's not awkward when the guy kisses him, not even awkward when they get naked. Spencer feels a little stupid when he admits, "I've never done this before," but the guy doesn't laugh at him or push him away. The guy says, "That is so fucking hot," and maybe slows down a little bit, maybe takes a little more control.

There's a lot more laughter involved than Spencer had expected. It's a lot more relaxed and casual than he'd been led to believe. The room is flooded with natural light and the bed is big and soft and they kiss for what feels like hours. He likes the way his body feels against another guy's. He's pleasantly surprised that he's not embarrassed at all being naked and hard in front of another person.

It's not earth shattering or mind blowing. When Spencer comes, his toes don't curl hard enough to cramp and his eyes don't roll back in his head--at least no more than any other time he's come. It's nice, though, and when it's over Spencer doesn't feel any different but he feels comfortable and relaxed and warm.

When he gets back to the dorms, he wonders if anyone can tell. Nobody seems to be able to. Not even Ryan looks at him twice.

"We're going apple picking on Saturday," Ryan tells him as he gets back to their room. He doesn't even look up from his book.

"Apple picking?" Spencer asks. "Seriously."

"We're leaving at nine."

The fact that Ryan's friends have planned the outing does not bode well. Of course, Ryan's friends are pretty much the only people on campus Spencer knows. He thinks about the year they spent apart, Spencer hanging out with no one at all and Ryan making friends with the entire campus. He thinks maybe it should bother him, but it doesn't. Spencer's always known a lot of people, but he's never had a lot of friends. He's never seen any reason to have more friends than he needs. Growing up, Ryan was pretty much his only friend even though he was always friendly enough with other kids from band or at the skate park.

Ryan's always had tons of friends, though, and Spencer's always thought they were weird. He knows most of it is his fault, but he's particular about people. His mother calls him unforgiving and has always urged him to be more easygoing, but whatever. Spencer's never going to like hanging out with people who can't even show up places on time, no matter how hard he tries.

The first week of the semester, Spencer had ended up sitting in some girl's dorm room for three hours with Ryan and five or six other people and they hadn't even been doing anything except waiting for another girl who kept sending texts promising that she was on her way. By the time she'd actually gotten there, it was midnight and they'd missed the movie and nobody except for Spencer had even seemed mad about it. Spencer had been livid, though he kept it under control enough that only Ryan knew.

"Your friends are retarded," Spencer had snapped as they walked back to their rooms. If he'd wanted to watch stupid sitcom reruns all night, he could have just stayed home, and then he wouldn't have had to listen to Ryan's stupid, pretentious friends make stupid, pretentious conversation.

"Mia's just late sometimes," Ryan had said. There was a hard glint in his eyes, and Spencer knew why. Mia was tiny and blonde and artistic, flighty and disorganized just like every other girl Ryan had ever been in love with.

"Ten minutes is late," Spencer had said, biting back the absolute worst things he wanted to say about having to spend hours listening to trust fund brats talk about the beauty of socialism; like any of them could survive actually working their fair share. "Ten minutes is late," Spencer repeated. "Three hours is disrespectful and rude."

"She's not--"

"I don't care about how fucking beautiful her poetry is, Ryan. Her actions show loud and fucking clear that she doesn't care about anybody who was waiting for her half as much as she loves her precious, pretentious self, and that includes you. Did she even apologize for fucking up everybody's plans? No. No, she just breezed in when it was convenient for her, like being a free spirit makes it okay to be an asshole. Don't you think it's creepy that you always fall for girls that are, like, carbon copies of your mother?"

Ryan hadn't spoken to him for a week after that. Spencer had accepted the silent treatment because it had been a really low blow. In his defense, he'd also been sleep deprived and hungry, otherwise he probably would have been able to keep his mouth shut.

The only other friend Spencer has on campus is a girl named Greta who lives on the floor below theirs and is in his Rhetoric class. He doesn't even know if they're actually friends, but they walk back from class together and eat lunch a couple of times a week, so Spencer invites her along.

"Apple picking?" she asks, her face breaking into a smile. "Like, in an orchard?" The wind's blowing her hair and her smile is radiant and Spencer thinks that if he liked girls, he'd probably be in love with her.

"I guess," he says. "I mean, that's where apples grow, right?"

Later that day, he gets a text from Greta. _a bunch of people want to come on Sat we'll bring own car if ok? Directions?_

"A bunch of people I know are going apple picking on Saturday, too," he tells Ryan. "You cool if we caravan?"

"Sure," says Ryan. "Alex is driving, but I'm sure he won't mind."

Spencer grimaces. He likes Alex the least of all of Ryan's friends. Except maybe for Mia. He hopes Mia isn’t coming, but he doesn't ask. If he asks, Ryan will want to know why he cares, and then Spencer will tell him what he thinks of her, and they won't talk for another week.

He texts Greta back, tells her the name of the orchard, tells her to meet them in the commuter lot at nine.

Of course, at nine o'clock in the morning on Saturday, Spencer's ready, Ryan's ready, Greta's got an entire minivan full of people ready to go, but Ryan's friends are, predictably, late. Alex makes it out to the lot by nine-thirty with some vaguely dazed looking blonde girls in tow that Spencer knows he's met before but whose names he can't remember.

The girls look sleepy and hungover, and they lean against Alex's car, smoking and playing with their phones.

"Mia's totally on her way," says one of the girls. Spencer grits his teeth.

"There's room in the van if you want to ride with us," Greta says. "We could probably squish everybody in if we tried."

"No need," says Ryan. He leans against Alex's car and bums a cigarette off one of the girls. Spencer's never seen him smoke before. He looks over at the minivan. Greta's on the far side where the door opens, and she's watching him.

"I'm going with Greta," Spencer says.

"She'll be here soon," Ryan tells him.

"No, she won't. She never is."

Ryan clenches his jaw and crosses his arms over his chest.

"I'm tired of waiting for her," Spencer tells him. "All we ever do is wait for her. So I'm going with Greta. There's room for you."

"She'll be here," Ryan says.

Spencer sighs. "I'll see you there, then." Spencer climbs into the ugly van and fastens his seat belt and tells them that everybody else will catch up later.

"Are you okay?" Greta asks softly, tugging gently on a strand of his hair.

Spencer shrugs.

"They'll meet us there, right?" she asks.

"Probably not," he admits. He sighs and looks out the window and he'd wave as they pulled out of the parking lot, but Ryan's facing the other way.

"So," says the dark-haired boy on the other side of Greta. "You are all going to be very, very appreciative of my forethought and planning."

"I don't know what he brought," says the girl driving, "but I think it's pretty much everything he owns."

The boy gets up and kneels on the seat, starts rifling through a bag behind him. Spencer wants to remind him that the van is moving, that he should have his seatbelt on, but he's kind of amused by how excited the guy seems about whatever he's getting and he's kind of distracted by the guy's truly amazing ass.

"Here," says the guy, passing something red and fuzzy to Greta. It's a Christmas stocking, and it says, "ASHLEE!" on it in sparkly puff paint.

"Honey, you know Christmas is months away," Greta tells him.

"They served my purpose," says the guy. Greta hands the stocking up towards the driver. The next stocking says, "DALLON!" and goes to the guy in the passenger seat. There are two other stockings with names on them, "GRETA!" and "BRENDON!"

"I made a couple extra," says the guy, Brendon, as he turns back around in his seat, "but they're generic since I didn't know who else would be coming with us."

He hands Spencer a stocking. It's red and fuzzy with a white fuzzy border and there are apples drawn on it in glitter paint.

"Thanks," says Spencer. He peeks into his stocking. There's a Capri Sun at the top and a Ziploc bag with crackers in it. He's pretty sure he also sees a bundle of multicolored pipe cleaners.

"I've also got a cooler full of soda and stuff for lunch," Brendon says.

"Bden," says Greta, leaning over to hug him. "You planned all of this?"

"I made Ashlee get the cooler and the ice," he says.

"This is..." Spencer wants to say something cutting. He wants to say something about how travel packs in Christmas stocking are stupid, how they're not in elementary school anymore, but he doesn't. He just tells the truth, says, "This is freaking awesome."

From the front seat, Dallon cries, "Gummi bears! Sweet!"

The orchard is nearly a two-hour drive away, but it goes by in a flash. Greta makes her pipe cleaners into a tiara, then she makes another one for Ashlee who can't, since she's driving. Dallon makes a bouquet of flowers and Brendon shows Spencer how to make a brachiosaurus. They sing along to the radio. Greta's got the new David Sedaris book and she makes Dallon read a couple of the chapters aloud, and Spencer's laughing so hard he's actually got tears running down his cheeks.

When they get to the orchard, they set up at one of the picnic tables. There are roast beef sandwiches, potato salad, chips with both salsa and ranch for dipping.

Ashlee says, "Honey, how much did this cost you?"

Brendon shrugs and says, "It doesn't matter. I like to splurge sometimes, okay?"

Greta and Dallon exchange looks and Spencer knows he's missing something, but nobody comments further.

They eat and they talk about music and when somebody mentions Bright Eyes, Spencer thinks of Ryan and he checks his phone. He doesn't have any messages. He texts Ryan. _eating lunch, want us to wait until you get here?_

He never gets a text back.

The orchard has something like fifteen different varieties of apples, plus raspberries, plus a pumpkin patch, plus a corn maze. Spencer takes a picture with his phone and sends it to his mom with the caption, "Apple picking with friends today." She worries that he's not settling in.

The first thing that Brendon does is climb one of the apple trees. "Come on," he says to Spencer.

"Um," says Spencer. "No."

"It's awesome up here." Brendon tosses down a ripe apple.

"Are you even allowed to climb the trees?" asks Spencer. There wasn't a list of rules posted at the entrance to the orchard, so he has no way of knowing.

"It's a tree. You're supposed to climb, trees. It's, like, a natural law. Ash, come on, the view's awesome."

Ashlee climbs up after him, but thankfully, Greta and Dallon stay on the ground with Spencer. They make a game out of it, catching the apples that Ashlee and Brendon toss down. Spencer's thankful, though, when they move on past the giant old Golden Delicious trees to the varieties too small to climb.

They've got three giant wooden baskets between the five of them, and they end up filled to the brim. "Greta and I are buying them," Dallon says as they haul the baskets towards the quaint wooden cashier stand.

"But--" says Spencer.

"Brendon got food, Ashlee drove, and you can buy gas on the way home," Dallon tells him.

Spencer doesn't think that sounds exactly equal, but Dallon doesn't look like he's willing to argue. There's a hand-painted wooden sign near the apple pies and jars of jam and it says, "Send Apples to your LOVED ONES! We Ship!" so Spencer buys apple butter, raspberry jam, blackberry jam, and a dozen apples to send to his family.

"Petting zoo," Brendon says, hooking his chin over Spencer's shoulder as Spencer fills out the address form. It would be weird, but he's seen Brendon interact with people all day, has seen him hug Greta and jump on Dallon's back for a piggyback ride and walk arm in arm with Ashlee so he figures it's just the way Brendon is. "Whatcha doing?"

"Sending stuff to my parents," says Spencer.

Brendon makes a strange sound as Spencer fills out the city and state, but when Spencer turns to ask him about it, he's jumping up and down in place and he says, "Petting zoo, seriously, it's going to be _awesome_."

Spencer has absolutely no desire to go into a pen filled with hyper children and goats, but he goes anyway, and when one of the goats clamps its teeth down on Brendon's pant leg and refuses to let go, he and Ashlee laugh so hard she has to hold on to him to stay upright.

They walk back to the van and Spencer's exhausted and he's got a little bit of a sunburn and he thinks it's the most fun he's had since he got to college. Greta and Dallon are walking in front of them, arm and arm, and Spencer says, suddenly, "Oh, my God, have I been a fifth wheel all day without even knowing it?"

Brendon laughs and Ashlee hooks her arm through Spencer's and says, "Don't worry about it. Brendon and I are the token gays, so, no, you haven't crashed a double date."

"They're not even dating," Brendon says, tipping his head towards Greta and Dallon.

"Yet," says Ashlee.

"Because they're retarded," Brendon tells Spencer.

Dallon drives on the way back, Greta sitting shotgun, Ashlee stretched out on the back seat to sleep. After half an hour or so, Brendon digs into the extra travel bags and hands Spencer packages of gummi bears and crackers, plus three or four apples and a can of soda.

"Unless you want the Capri Suns?" Brendon asks, looking down to where he's piled the plastic foil packages by his side.

"Nope," says Spencer, cracking open his soda. "Those are all you."

Brendon smiles and shoves a straw into the first one. He finishes his Capri Sun and looks over at Spencer out of the corner of his eye. He says, "I saw, um, when you sent that stuff to your parents. They live in Summerlin? Nevada?"

Spencer nods. "Yeah. It's just outside of Las Vegas."

Brendon nods and he plays with his straw, winding it around his finger. "I know. I grew up there."

"Get out," says Spencer. "Me, too. You went to Palo Verde, then?"

"Yeah. You went to Bishop Gorman?"

"Yeah. This is so weird."

Brendon smiles at him, but it seems almost brittle. "Did you, um, you know the Tropical Smoothie Café on Charleston? By the Starbucks?"

"Yeah, and the Port of Subs."

"That's the one. That's where I worked."

Spencer laughs, grinning. As they talk, he figures out that Brendon knows a bunch of the guys Spencer went to middle school with, that Spencer knows a girl Brendon worked with, that they both hung out at Red Rock on the weekends.

Brendon's telling him a story about the bowling alley at Red Rock, talking animatedly, hands waving, eyes dark and bright, and it hits Spencer right in the gut, how gorgeous Brendon is. He doesn’t know what to do with it, though, doesn't know how to act on his attraction, so he does nothing.

Dallon pulls the van into the circular drive near Spencer and Greta's dorm much sooner than Spencer wants him to. He wants to sit there in the minivan talking to Brendon and eating apples for at least another two hours.

"Oh, here," Brendon says, digging through his bag. "Thursday night my friends are having a party." He scribbles something on a piece of paper. "This is the address. You should come."

"Okay," Spencer says, getting out of the minivan reluctantly. He wonders if he should ask Brendon if he wants to get dinner or something. He takes the cardboard box full of apples that Ashlee shoves into his arms and gives a little wave and Dallon drives away. He wonders if it would be weird if he asked Greta for Brendon's number. He wonders why Greta didn't get out of the van, then figures she probably has plans with Dallon.

He climbs five flights of stairs, fumbles in his pocket for his keys, opens his door, sets the box of apples down in the middle of the room and sighs. Ryan's silent, but Spencer knows he's curled up in his bunk beneath his covers. He says, "I have, like, a ridiculous amount of apples and you're going to have to eat at least half of them."

Ryan doesn't say anything.

Spencer takes off his jacket and toes off his shoes and he climbs the ladder up into Ryan's bunk and curls up behind him. He drapes his arm over Ryan's hips and tugs him close so they're spooning.

"She didn't show up," Ryan whispers. He's not crying, but his voice is rough so he probably had been, earlier.

"I'm sorry."

"I like her so much, Spence."

Spencer closes his eyes and doesn't say anything else. He wants to tell Ryan to stop falling in love with selfish women, but he doesn't. He's said it before, anyway.

"Was it fun?" Ryan asks after a long while.

"I guess. There was this guy, Brendon. I think he climbed every tree in the orchard. He did most of the picking, too, I just caught the apples as he threw them down to me."

Ryan nods.

"We got invited to a party next week."

"You mean _you_ got invited to a party next week."

"Whatever. You know I won't go unless you do."

"I won't know anyone there."

"And I will? You're coming. Besides, it's off campus, so you have to drive."

Ryan laughs softly.

Spencer's tempted to tell him that Mia's a bitch, but he knows it won't make anything better so he bites his tongue. When he slides down off Ryan's bunk, a pair of white cotton underpants with pastel blue polka dots flutters down and lands at his feet.

Spencer looks at the tiny bikini-cut panties. He looks at Ryan. "Is there something you need to talk to me about? Because if you're thinking about a sex change, you know I've always got your back."

Ryan leans over the edge of his bunk and looks down at the panties, then laughs. "They're Charlene's," he says.

"I don't know anyone named Charlene," Spencer tells him.

"Hell," says Ryan. "I hardly know Charlene."

"So, seriously, you somehow got laid this afternoon, and you're still Mopey McMopeypants?"

Ryan shrugs. It's as good an answer as any.

The next morning, Spencer wakes up with his front half frozen and his back sweaty. Ryan's spooned up behind him and he's stolen the covers, like he always does. Spencer grumbles and turns and yanks the covers back.

"'m sleeping," Ryan mumbles.

"Blanket hog," says Spencer.

Ryan snuffles a little bit and rearranges his limbs and falls back to sleep with his forehead pressed to Spencer's shoulder.

They've been sharing a bed since they were kids. They'd gone nearly a year without it, when Ryan had been away at college and Spencer had still been a senior in high school, and Spencer thought maybe they wouldn't ever share again, but Ryan still climbs into his bed sometimes, still snores in Spencer's ear and steals the covers and presses his cold feet to Spencer's ankles. Spencer knows its weird, they're eighteen and nineteen now instead of nine and ten, but still. Its nice, sometimes, to wake up to Ryan's familiar presence, so Spencer never says anything about how other people probably don’t sleep in their best friends' beds past the age of eleven.

Spencer falls back to sleep and wakes up again to find Ryan still curled up against him. He's got his phone in his hand and he's scrolling through his texts.

"She wants to hang out this afternoon," Ryan says. "I keep expecting her to say she's sorry, but she doesn't. She just asked me to hang out, like nothing happened."

"She's never going to say she's sorry," Spencer tells him. "She's never going to be sorry."

"Why?"

Spencer rubs his back. "Because she doesn't think about anyone but herself," he whispers. "Because it never occurs to her that other people might have plans that don't correspond to her whims." He thinks he's being really generous. What he really wants to say is, _Because she's a narcissistic bitch who thinks of other people as secondary to her own importance if she even thinks of them at all._ He also doesn’t mention that he thinks she might be some sort of sociopath.

"Tell me a story," Ryan says.

When Ryan says that, Spencer usually tells him something he already knows. He tells Ryan about the time they went to Lake Meade and Spencer's jet ski died in the middle of the water and he had to wait an hour before anybody noticed that he was in trouble and towed him in. He tells Ryan about the Christmas when he woke up to two golden retriever puppies playing next to the tree. He tells Ryan about the stripper who lived next door to him and used to come out and yell at them if they were playing too loud after school because she was trying to sleep.

Instead of telling Ryan one of his usual stories, he says, "I met a guy at a party and went to his house last week and slept with him."

Ryan sits up and looks at Spencer with wide eyes.

"It's not a big deal," Spencer says. He looks away.

Ryan doesn't say anything.

Spencer sighs.

"You didn't tell me." Ryan's voice is soft.

"I didn't tell anybody."

"You could have told me."

"I'm telling you now."

"You could have told me before."

"I wasn't sure before."

"Really?"

Spencer shrugs. It's hard to do with the way he's laying but he manages it. "I don't know. Maybe?"

"But you're sure now?"

Spencer nods. "Yeah."

Ryan doesn't say anything for a minute, and Spencer still hasn't worked up the nerve to look at him.

"I think we can make money off it," Ryan says finally.

Spencer's laugh is more of a surprised snort. "What?"

"Think about it. At parties, we can bet people ten dollars they can't guess which one of us is gay and which one of us is straight. We'll be rich. You know they'll pick me as the gay one pretty much every time."

Spencer laughs and nods. It's probably true.

"You, uh, you do know I'm not, though, right?"

Spencer looks over at him. "Duh."

"Just, you know. You don't, uh, you weren't ever, like..."

"Into you?" Spencer asks. "Oh, my God. No. That's disgusting."

"Thanks," says Ryan.

Spencer sighs. "You know what I mean. Ew."

"Seriously. My self-esteem is skyrocketing right now."

"Would you rather I jerk off thinking about you?"

Ryan wrinkles his nose. "No. Gross. Okay. Boundaries firmly established." He holds his phone out towards Spencer. "Order pizza."

"Why do I always have to be the one to call?"

"Because you sweet talk them into giving you stuff for free."

"No, I ask what the specials are. There's a difference."

"I'm pretty sure you've got the touch," Ryan tells him.

Spencer rolls his eyes and takes the phone. "Fine. I'll be the one to call for pizza if you figure out what to do with those." He points to the pair of polka dot panties still on their floor.

"Conundrum," says Ryan, reaching down for them. "Keeping them is creepy, but throwing them away seems disrespectful."

Spencer dials the pizza delivery place, knows the number by heart, and asks what the specials are. He can get two large pizzas for the price of two mediums, so he gets one with the works and one with barbeque chicken and bacon.

"Breadsticks," Ryan hisses, poking at his shoulder.

"What am I, new?" Spencer asks, then orders breadsticks. It's too much food for even Ryan to eat, but the leftovers make good breakfast.

"Half an hour," Spencer tells Ryan, who's still got the underwear in his hand. "I'm taking a shower, and for the love of God, please don't, like, sniff those and jerk off while I'm gone."

Ryan laughs and gives Spencer a good kick to the thigh as he gets up.

Half an hour later, Spencer's showered and dressed and he and Ryan are waiting by the side door closest to the circular drive between the four dorms in their quad. Spencer watches as the pizza delivery car pulls up and the driver runs into Ivers, then back out, then into Snell, then back out again and into Ekland.

He and Ryan live in Tresler, the last stop on the one-way drive, so they always get their pizzas last. When the delivery guy runs up their walkway, Ryan opens the door as Spencer takes out his wallet and, of course, the delivery guy is Brendon.

"Hi!" Brendon says, smiling at him, bouncing on the balls of his feet. He's smiling at Spencer and Spencer can't help but smile back.

Ryan says, "Um..."

"Oh, hey, Ryan," Brendon says, looking at Ryan like he hadn't even noticed he was there before. He looks back at Spencer. "Hey, Spence."

"Hey," says Spencer.

"Pizza," says Ryan.

Brendon hands the pizzas to Ryan and he's still smiling at Spencer. Spencer's trying to think of something to say. He wonders if he should thank him for the food and the travel bags, but that would mean explaining it all to Ryan, and he really, really doesn't want Ryan to make fun. He says, "Um."

"Now you pay him," Ryan says, annoyed. He tosses his head to flick his bangs out of his eyes. "And then he gives you your change, you tip him, he leaves, and we eat. You've done this before. It's not rocket science."

"Right," Spencer says, nodding. "Right, um, so, keep the change."

"Thanks, " says Brendon, tucking the money in his pocket without counting it. "Um. I had fun yesterday."

"Me, too," says Spencer.

Ryan says, "This is the part where he leaves and we eat."

"Right," says Spencer.

Brendon grins at him some more and says. "So, um. Bye."

"See you around," Spencer tells him. He hopes that's not lame. He's going to throw himself off the roof if it was lame.

"Awesome," says Ryan. "Heavy pizza boxes. Leaving now." He turns to walk away and Spencer can't think of anything else to say so he just nods at Brendon and turns and he thinks, after a couple of steps, that he should have asked for Brendon's number, but by the time he looks back Brendon's already out the door and headed to his delivery car.

"How do you know Brendon?" Ryan asks as they head towards the stairwell. There are elevators, but they're all the way on the other side of the dorm, and they're tiny, and they're almost always broken.

"Oh. Um. He came with us yesterday. To the orchard." Spencer's a little worried that Ryan will get moody at the reminder, but he doesn't.

They get to the third floor landing in silence and Ryan sits down on one of the steps and puts the pizzas down. "We're taking a break," he says.

Spencer agrees and sits a step below Ryan. They open the top box, which turns out to be the pizza with the works, and pull out slices.

"Ow, ow, hot," Ryan says after he takes a bite. There's cheese and grease running down his chin, but he just wipes it away with the back of his hand. "Fresh pizza's, like, the hottest element known to all of mankind," he says with his mouth full.

Spencer blows on his piece the way he always does and takes a small bite instead of shoving half the slice into his mouth the way Ryan always does. "How do _you_ know Brendon?"

"He has his own column," Ryan says, like Spencer's supposed to know what that means.

"Um," says Spencer.

"In the paper."

"Oh," says Spencer. "Right."

"Which you read every day because your best friend also has his own column."

"Of course," Spencer tells him.

"You're such a shitty liar."

"I don't have to read your column," Spencer tells him. "You read it to me anyway."

"I read you the rough draft, not the final copy!"

Spencer puts his half-eaten piece of pizza back in the box and shuts the lid, then picks up the boxes and starts up the final two flights of stairs to their floor.

"I can't believe you don't read the paper," Ryan grumbles, climbing the steps behind him. "How do you stay informed?"

"I have you," Spencer tells him. "I trust that if anything really important happens, you'll tell me."

"You're a Philistine," Ryan tells him.

Spencer doesn't mention how he prefers podcast news to reading the newspaper, anyway. He'd only made that mistake one time.

"Oh, hey," Ryan says as they finally make it back to their floor. "Do you think Brendon's cute?"

"Oh, my God," says Spencer. "Say it a little louder, please."

"What?" Ryan asks.

Spencer waits until they're back in their room with the door closed before he says, "Just because I'm out to you doesn't mean I want everybody to know."

"Oh," says Ryan. Then, "Why not?"

"I don't know," Spencer says. "I'm still figuring this out, okay? I hadn't even had a cock in my mouth until four days ago."

The stunned, bewildered look on Ryan's face is amazing. Spencer wishes he had his camera phone ready so he could snap a picture of it before it disappeared.

Spencer laughs. "Do I even want to know?"

Ryan rubs his hand over his face. "I just had a really, really disturbing mental image."

"You didn't picture me sucking _your_ dick, did you?"

Ryan whimpers.

"That's gross," says Spencer.

"I can't help it. You know I have an overactive imagination."

Spencer laughs and sets the pizza boxes on the floor, then digs the beanbag chairs out from underneath his bunk and tosses one at Ryan. "Eat your fucking pizza."

They're halfway through the first pizza and mostly finished with the breadsticks when Ryan says, "Wait, oh my God, was that you trying to flirt?"

Spencer ducks his head down and says, "Shut up."

"No. Seriously. Was that, like, a love connection going on down there? Because Spencer, man, I just...that was not good."

"I hate you so bad," says Spencer. Then, "It was horrible, wasn't it? Was I completely lame? Do I have to jump off the roof?"

"You're not jumping off the roof," Ryan tells him. "And, yes, it was lame, but seriously, I can't decide which one of you was more lame. You were both, just...not good."

Spencer frowns at his pizza.

"Is he going to be at the party Thursday night?"

Spencer nods. "I think so."

"That gives you time, at least. God. If I'd known your flirting was that uncomfortable, I'd have started giving you lessons years ago."

"There are not even words for how much I hate you right now."

"So does that mean you don't want me to teach you how to flirt without being lame?"

"No," Spencer says. "No, I really need to learn."

On their way to class on Monday, Ryan tells him to touch Brendon a lot.

"I think that sounds more like molestation that flirting," Spencer says.

"Yeah, touching him anywhere below the waist is bad flirting technique," Ryan says. "Just touch his arm when you talk to him. Touching his face is the advanced class. You're not ready for that, yet."

"I don't think I'm ready for anything," Spencer admits.

On Tuesday, after he makes Spencer listen to three different draft versions of his column about the importance of arts funding, Ryan tells him to give Brendon compliments. "But not, like, normal ones."

"So, what, I tell him I like his earlobes?" Spencer rolls his eyes.

"Actually," says Ryan, "that's not bad at all. I was going to say something like, 'I didn't know you looked so good in red,' but I like the earlobes thing. It's kind of quirky. I think I can make it work for me."

Spencer rolls his eyes again and pretends to have an opinion about Ryan's writing.

On Wednesday, Ryan wants Spencer to practice on him.

"Just pretend I'm Brendon. What do you say?" Ryan asks. He leans in towards Spencer and smiles and bats his eyelashes.

"Go fuck yourself," says Spencer.

"Yeah, no, I don't think that's going to work."

On Thursday, Spencer decides he's not going to the party.

"I have a lot of homework," he says.

"You have a case of the chickenshits," Ryan tells him.

Spencer laughs. He hasn't heard anybody say chickenshit since ninth grade.

Ryan actually bawks at him and struts around the room, elbows up like wings.

"If I had my camera right now," Spencer says.

"You'd still be chicken," Ryan tells him.

"I do have a lot of homework."

"You're going to talk to him," Ryan says. "That's it. That's all you have to do. You just have to say hello and have, like, a five-minute conversation. It's a party. It's going to be loud and packed and you won't even have time to be lame. I promise."

Spencer doubts that, but he agrees to go. They leave the dorm a little after nine and walk the ten minutes to the B lot, where Ryan's car is parked.

"I almost hate to move it," Ryan says as they pull out of the lot. "You know I'm never going to get a spot that good again."

Spencer's foot is tapping rapidly and he can't stop playing with a thread on the cuff of his jacket.

"Oh, my God," Ryan says, reaching out and slapping his hand. "Calm your shit down."

Spencer takes a deep breath and makes himself remain still.

The party isn't that far off campus, and they probably could have walked, but the nights are getting really cold. It takes Ryan five minutes to find a parking spot on the residential streets, but it still better than walking the whole way.

"Don't be nervous," Ryan says as they head up the driveway. The music is loud and the driveway is packed with cars and there are people talking and laughing on the front porch.

"I'm not nervous," Spencer lies.

The guy at the door tells them it's ten dollars for a cup.

"Highway robbery," says Ryan, but he hands the guy a twenty and the guy hands them two red plastic cups.

"If you lose it, it's another ten bucks," the guy says.

Ryan shrugs and heads inside and pulls Spencer towards the keg.

Watching Ryan drink is strange. He'd been so adamant when they were younger, so anti-alcohol, that watching him drink makes Spencer feel like he's in bizzaro world. He mostly concentrates on his own beer and pretends Ryan's drinking soda.

Ryan was right about the party being loud and packed. He doesn't know anyone there, but of course Ryan does. Ryan strikes up a conversation with a pretty brunette girl who immediately puts her hand on his arm as they talk. Spencer rolls his eyes and finishes his beer and goes to get in line for more.

He's got his second beer and is heading back towards the last place he saw Ryan when someone grabs his arm. It's Brendon, and his dark eyes are bright and soft and he says, "Hey, hey you made it, hi," and gives Spencer a hug. He smells like beer and something sharper, maybe tequila. Spencer doesn't know a lot about alcohol, doesn't know enough to identify most of it by scent.

"I, um," Spencer doesn't know what to say. He says, "You look really nice."

Brendon smiles at him, then tugs him out of the way of the people walking through, towards the wall. They're pressed close together and Spencer doesn't know what to say.

"Is that Ryan?" Brendon asks.

Spencer turns to see Ryan leaning close to the pretty brunette, whispering something in her ear. "Yeah," he says, turning back.

"And you don't mind that he's, I mean, are you guys...?"

Spencer shakes his head. He can feel the beer starting to hit him. "No," he says. "No way. He's totally straight."

"Oh," says Brendon nodding. "And you?"

"Totally not straight," Spencer says.

"Oh," Brendon says softly. He's smiling.

Spencer has no idea what to say next. _I think you're cute so do you want to go out?_ He vetoes that. _What about you? Do you have a boyfriend?_ He doesn't think Brendon does, though, and he thinks it might sound insincere if he asks. He tries to dig through his mind for anything he's ever heard Ryan say that might be relevant to his situation, but he doesn't think, _You're hot, we should have sex,_ is really quite his style.

"I have so many apples in my room," Brendon tells him, "I'm going to have to learn how to bake."

It's just lame enough to put Spencer at ease. He might not have Ryan's moves, but neither does Brendon. He likes knowing they're on even footing.

Spencer knows he's smiling and he wants to stop, wants to look serious instead of silly but he can't help it. Brendon's smiling back at him, so at least he's not the only one. He doesn't even know what they're talking about, marching band and high school and all the stupid things people talk about that don't matter. Then Brendon leans forward a couple of inches and Spencer lifts his hand and runs his fingers through Brendon's hair. Even as he's doing it, there's a part of his brain yelling at him to stop, but he doesn't. He runs his fingers through Brendon's hair and cups the back of Brendon's head and he leans forward and Brendon leans forward and then they're kissing.

It's not like any kiss Spencer's had before, not that's he's had a lot. But it's not awkward and weird, and it's not relaxed and lazy. He's hyper-alert and his heart is thumping against his ribs and he's so turned on so quickly that it almost hurts. He kisses Brendon hard and gasps when Brendon grips his hips and yanks him forward so their bodies are pressed together.

There are a couple of catcalls and somebody laughingly tells them to get a room. Spencer buries his face against Brendon's neck and he can feel his face get hot the way it does when he blushes.

"You wanna get out of here?" Brendon asks, fingers slipping beneath the hem of Spencer's shirt.

Spencer nods and lets Brendon take his hand and he doesn't make eye contact with anybody, just lets Brendon lead him out of the party. They're halfway down the driveway when Brendon turns and starts kissing him again and Spencer doesn't even care, is totally willing to shove Brendon up against a car and drop to his knees right there where anybody could see them.

"Where?" Brendon asks breathlessly.

It takes Spencer a few moments to get his mind working enough to speak. "I'm all the way in Tresler," he says. He knows it sounds like a whine. It's at least a thirty-minute walk, and Spencer doesn't think he can make it.

Brendon laughs ruefully as he slides his hands up the bare skin of Spencer's back. "I'm in Tower One." The Towers are even further away than Spencer's dorm.

"Fuck," Spencer moans. Brendon presses against him, and Spencer can feel how hard he is, even through the layers of denim. There's a painful jab against his hip as Brendon shifts and Spencer starts to laugh.

"What?" Brendon asks.

Spencer steps back and digs in his pocket, pulls out his keys. He's had Ryan's spare set of keys since he was fifteen, has had them for so long that he never even thinks about them anymore until Ryan calls because he's locked his set inside. He pulls Brendon down the side streets, finds Ryan's Malibu and opens the back door and Brendon shoves them both inside and pulls the door shut, and then his hand is working open the buttons on Spencer's fly.

"What do you like?" Brendon asks even as he grips Spencer's dick in his hand and starts stroking it.

"Th-this is good," Spencer stutters. "Oh, God."

Brendon stops stroking him, keeps kissing him but his hand is gone for a moment and he shifts and wiggles a little bit, and then his hand is over Spencer's and he presses Spencer's hand to his cock. It's so hot against Spencer's palm, so hard he can feel Brendon's heartbeat.

Their kisses are messy and frantic, Spencer can't catch his breath, and then Brendon says, "I wanna blow you." Spencer feels like he might pass out.

Spencer's thankful that he'd hooked up with Maarfil, because if he hadn't been prepared for how it felt to have a mouth on his cock, he probably would have passed out. It's still not the same; it's still much more intense.

He rests his hand on the back of Brendon's head and closes his eyes and concentrates on lasting at least a couple of minutes. It's almost impossible to last. Brendon's so gorgeous, and he's making soft, turned-on noises, and when Spencer looks down, the way Brendon's mouth is stretched around him is the hottest thing he's ever seen. He wishes the streetlights were brighter, wishes he could see more than hints and shadows.

Spencer touches Brendon's face with his fingertips, his sharp cheekbones and dark eyelashes. He cups Brendon's cheek in his palm and shivers because he can feel the outline of his own cock where it's moving inside Brendon's mouth. He strokes along Brendon's lower lip with his thumb, and Brendon pulls back and grins up at him.

"This okay?" Brendon asks, voice rough.

"So good," Spencer whispers. "I'm so close."

Brendon says, "Awesome," and tips his head back down.

Spencer tries to warn him, is pretty sure he says Brendon's name and paws at his hair in what is a totally _I'm about to come in your mouth_ sort of way, but either Spencer's warnings are ineffectual or Brendon doesn't actually care about Spencer coming in his mouth, because once it starts, Brendon doesn't even pull away. He just keeps sucking Spencer through it, and he's swallowing, and Spencer knocks his head back against the seat, whiting out a little bit.

"Good?" Brendon asks, lifting his head up.

"Nnng," says Spencer, because he can't string two words together at the moment, let alone manage a complete sentence.

Brendon kisses him hard, and it's weird, tasting himself on Brendon's mouth, but it's not bad. Spencer winds the fingers of one hand through Brendon's hair and puts his other hand over Brendon, not really helping, but he's shaky and dazed and he doesn't know what else to do. Brendon doesn't seem to mind, breaks off the kiss and presses his forehead to Spencer's shoulder and groans and shudders and Spencer can feel Brendon's come sliding hot over his fingers.

He strokes Brendon's shoulders, down his back. He's still shaking a little bit. He doesn't know if he should say something.

Brendon kisses Spencer's neck gently. Spencer sighs and his fingers tighten against Brendon's t-shirt. Brendon lifts his head and he's smiling wide and Spencer can't help but smile back at him. "Hi," he whispers, leaning in for a kiss.

"Hi," Spencer whispers back against his mouth.

"I'm, um," Brendon says, shifting and tugging his pants back up. "Would you believe me if I told you I'm not usually this easy?" He swings one leg over Spencer's, settling comfortably in his lap. "I just don't have, um, what's that called?"

Spencer has no idea. He loops his arms around Brendon's waist and tips his head up for another kiss.

"Willpower," says Brendon.

"What?" Spencer asks. He's distracted, floating and fuzzy, doesn't want to concentrate on anything except the way Brendon's body feels against his.

"That's what I don't have," Brendon tells him. "Willpower."

"Oh," says Spencer. "Good." He lets Brendon kiss him over and over again. He wouldn't want to move even if he could, wants nothing more than to spend the entire night like this, Brendon in his arms, mouths pressed together.

Spencer shifts when one of his legs starts to cramp, and Brendon says, "Sorry. Sorry. I'm probably crushing you."

"You're really not," Spencer tells him, but Brendon's already pulling away.

Spencer lifts his hips and tugs his jeans back up and he's about to suggest they just stretch out in the back seat, but Brendon's opening the door and climbing out.

"We should probably get back, huh?" Brendon asks.

"I guess." Spencer climbs out of the back seat of Ryan's car and locks the doors. They make it half a block before they're kissing again, Spencer pushing him up against the side of a van, Brendon's hands sliding beneath Spencer's t-shirt.

Brendon shivers and presses his face against Spencer's neck. "It's freezing," he says. "Was it this cold when we came out here?"

"Probably. I was kind of, um, distracted."

Brendon grins up at him, dark eyes bright, and kisses him hard one last time. Then his hand dips down to Spencer's back pocket and he pulls out Spencer's phone. "I wanted to get your number on Saturday but, uh, I can be kind of a pussy sometimes," he admits.

Spencer smiles and runs his hand over Brendon's shoulders. "Yeah. Me, too."

They hold hands as they walk back to the party. Spencer feels giddy and a little self-conscious, but no one seems to give a shit that he's holding hands with another guy, not even the burly dude at the front door.

Spencer's just really getting into holding Brendon's hand, smiling at him stupidly and letting his stomach flutter as he remembers what he just did when Greta comes up to them, wide-eyed and slurring her words.

"It's a tragedy," she tells Brendon. "That girl Ashlee went out with last month showed up with some girl from, like, Australia, and I can't get her to stop crying."

"The Australian girl?" Brendon asks.

"Ashlee," Greta says. "Brendon, seriously, I need you. Ashlee needs you."

"But," Brendon starts. He looks over at Spencer. "But we were--"

"It's okay," Spencer says, tugging his hand away.

Brendon sighs.

"Seriously," Spencer tells him. "I've got your number, now."

"Okay," Brendon says. He leans up and kisses Spencer once, quickly, before turning to leave. As he heads away, Spencer hears him telling Greta, "Yes, as a matter of fact, you _did_ just cockblock me."

Spencer smiles to himself and finds a deserted red plastic cup. He rinses it out in the kitchen to rid it of any residual spit or roofies and gets himself a beer. After twenty minutes of sitting on the fringes of a conversation about lacrosse, he texts Ryan.

 _so bored I'm considering committing mass murder_

 _spree killing is way underrated_

 _where r u?_

 _out back by the fire pit, but they ran out of marshmallows_

Spencer heads out to the backyard. Ryan's sitting near the fire drinking a bottle of water and talking to a guy Spencer doesn't know.

"Where'd your girl go?" Spencer asks as he reaches Ryan, quiet enough that only Ryan can hear him.

Ryan shrugs. "Where'd you get off to?"

Spencer shrugs.

"Wanna stay?"

"No. I'm cool with leaving."

Ryan nods and they make their exit, walking around the house instead of through it on their way to the street.

Ryan frowns at him after a couple of blocks. "Do...do you have sex hair?"

"Maybe," Spencer says. He tugs on a strand and wonders just how wild it is.

"It's actually a good look for you. I've just never seen you with sex hair. Oh, shit, did you run into Brendon?"

Spencer grins and looks away. "Maybe."

Ryan pokes him in the ribs. "And you weren't even going to show up."

"Yeah, yeah," Spencer says, smiling a little to himself as they pass the van he'd pushed Brendon up against earlier.

"At least one of us got lucky," Ryan says as they get to his car. "She blew me off once she realized I wasn't vegan."

"Really?"

"She also didn't like my joke about vegans and oral sex. She told me I wasn't funny and that I shouldn't quit my day job."

Spencer snorts. "Like you've ever been able to keep a job."

"Seriously," Ryan says, grinning at him.

When Spencer gets into the car, it hits him all over again, what had happened in the back seat not even an hour before. Then he realizes that he can still smell what happened back there and he slumps down in his seat.

"Does it smell weird in here to you?" Ryan asks after a few minutes.

Spencer slides even lower in his seat. "No."

"Seriously." Ryan wrinkles his nose and sniffs a few times. "It's kind of...metallic?"

"You're imagining things." Spencer looks out the window. The whole car totally smells like jizz.

Ryan wrinkles his nose again and rolls down the window.

Spencer's thankful that Ryan only drives his car once or twice a week; by the next time he needs to use the car, the smell should have dissipated.

Ryan drives through the B lot looking for a spot and doesn't find one. They end up having to park on the fourth floor of the parking garage, and as Ryan pulls into the first empty spot he sees, Spencer curses the bright streetlight shining through the side of the parking garage like a spotlight.

Ryan sticks his head into the backseat to see if he's left anything in the open that somebody might want to steal, and sure enough, there's a definite something on the back seat. He freezes and remains quiet for a very long moment. "Spencer," he says. "I think somebody broke into my car and violated my upholstery."

Spencer pinches the bridge of his nose.

Ryan turns to look at him, mouth open. " _You_ broke into my car and violated my upholstery?"

"Since I have keys, I didn't technically break in," Spencer tells him.

"There's a puddle of your jizz on my back seat!"

"It might not be mine."

"Oh, my God."

"What? It's not like you've never had sex in the back seat."

"Well, yeah, but it's my car!"

"Look," Spencer said. "I'm sorry. And I take back every insult about you thinking with your dick instead of your brain. It's hard to think with your brain when the alternative is sex. I understand that, now."

Ryan opens his mouth to argue, then closes it again. "Fine," he says as he gets out. "But you're getting it detailed."

"That's totally fair," Spencer tells him.

He has a nine o'clock class on Friday mornings, and as soon as it's done he treks out to the parking garage and cleans up the stain as well as he can with the paper towels Ryan keeps in the trunk. Then he drives the car to the fancy car wash close to downtown and shells out fifty dollars to get the upholstery cleaned.

Spencer's parked and walking back to the dorms when his phone rings. He bites his lip when he sees Brendon's name on the screen. It doesn't actually say Brendon, it says _BDEN!!_ , because Brendon had put it into Spencer's phone himself. He looks at his phone for a long moment, then takes a deep breath and answers. "Hey," he says as casually as possible.

"Hey back," says Brendon. "So, um, I know there's, like, a rule that you're not supposed to call somebody for three days to prove that you're cool or whatever, but I thought it would only be fair for me to tell you right up front that I'm a total spaz. So I'm calling. Now. Instead of, like, three days from now. Hi."

Spencer grins and ducks his head down. "Hi back," he says. He feels totally lame and amazing at the same time. "How's, um, is Ashlee all right?"

"She'll be fine. Too much tequila and a broken heart. You know how it goes. I got to listen to her cry for an hour and then hold her hair back while she puked. It was awesome. You got home okay?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I found Ryan again and we left early. Even made it to my nine o'clock class with not much of a hangover."

"What are you up to now?"

"Walking back from the south parking garage. I had to get Ryan's car detailed since we, uh, made a mess."

Brendon's laugh is dorky and sincere. "Sorry, dude. It was probably mine. I'm pretty sure I swallowed most of yours."

"Nnng," says Spencer, stopping in his tracks.

"Spencer?"

"You can't just _say_ stuff like that," Spencer whispers.

"I'm walking back from class right now," Brendon says, voice low. "It'll take me ten minutes to get back to the Towers. How far away are you?"

Spencer looks up. If he changes direction and cuts across the soccer fields it won't take him long. "About the same," he says.

"You, uh, wanna see my room?"

"Yes," Spencer tells him, turning towards the Towers and walking as fast as he can.

When he gets there, Brendon's standing outside with his thumbs hooked in the straps of his backpack, bouncing on the balls of his feet. He smiles when he sees Spencer and gives a little wave.

"Hi," says Spencer.

"Hey," says Brendon. He might be blushing or his cheeks might just be red from the cold. "So, um, yeah, prepare yourself to be wowed with the awesomeness of my dorm room."

The Towers are the newest dorms on campus, two twelve-story buildings made of cement and steel. The elevators even work, and they take them up even though Brendon only lives on the third floor.

The hallways are narrower than the ones in Tresler, and when Brendon opens his door Spencer can see that his room isn't nearly as big as the room he shares with Ryan. Spencer wants to shove Brendon up against the wall as soon as they're inside, but he can't. There's a guy in Brendon's room, muscled and buzz cut, sitting on an unmade bed and watching TV.

"Oh, hey," Brendon says, like he's startled to see the guy there. "I thought you had bio."

"Fuck it," says the guy. He doesn't look away from the TV or say hello to Spencer.

"Awesome," Brendon mutters under his breath. "So, um, Josh, this is Spencer. Spencer, my roommate, Josh."

"Hi," says Spencer.

"I'm fucking watching this," Josh tells them.

Spencer looks at the TV. It's a rerun of _Saved by the Bell_. Spencer's tempted to tell Josh that Violet and Screech will totally get together by the end of the episode, but he doesn't. "Mine?" he asks Brendon softly.

"Fuck, yes," says Brendon.

It's another ten minutes to Tresler, where Spencer lives, and he takes that time to text Ryan, _go to the library_

 _?_

 _or the Union or somebody else's room, but please be gone until at least three_

 _why?_

 _I'll give you my first born_

 _I don't like kids_

 _you owe me for all the times I've slept on the couch in the lounge_

 _FINE_

Spencer wishes that Brendon's stupid roommate hadn't been home. His nerves are sharp edged by the time they finally make it back to Spencer's room, and he doesn't know if he wants to shove Brendon up against a wall and make out with him or just run away and hide.

"Um," says Brendon, shoving his hands into his pockets. "It's, um, nice."

Spencer nods and drops his backpack by his desk. He takes off his jacket and he doesn't know what to say, the urgency of half an hour earlier faded with time and frustration. Brendon puts his hands on Spencer's hips, though, steps close and kisses the back of his neck.

Spencer sighs and his eyes close. Then Brendon slides his fingers under Spencer's sweatshirt and noses at the nape of Spencer's neck, and after he kisses the skin right behind Spencer's ear, he says, "I really want you to fuck me."

Spencer turns and kisses Brendon so hard that their teeth collide but he doesn't even care about how it hurts. He's trembling and needy again, hasn't been so out of control of his own libido since he was a freshman in high school.

"So that's a yes, then?" Brendon asks, breathless, as Spencer shoves him towards the beds and kisses him and pulls his clothes off all at the same time. He doesn't even unzip Brendon's jacket, just pulls it up over his head along with his sweater and his long-sleeved t-shirt and letting everything fall tangled to the floor.

They roll onto Spencer's bed and it's amazing. He's naked, completely naked and hard against another person and yeah, okay, technically he's been totally naked with somebody before, but it wasn't like this. It wasn't Brendon before, kissing him sweet and hot, laughing when Spencer's hands find a ticklish spot.

Brendon's body fits perfectly over his, his thigh between Spencer's thighs. He rubs his cock against Spencer's bare hip and wraps his hand around Spencer's cock and strokes slowly, squeezing, making soft, breathy sounds as he kisses Spencer's neck.

"You're shaking," Brendon whispers.

Spencer shakes his head.

Brendon pushes himself up so he can see Spencer's face. "Is this okay? Are you okay?"

Spencer whimpers and slides his hands over Brendon's body. He can touch everything, anything he wants. He can feel the knobs of Brendon's spine and the warm skin of his back and the way his ass curves to meet his thighs. He strokes along Brendon's ribs and closes his eyes and arches his hips.

"Spencer," Brendon says.

"It's good," Spencer whispers. "It's good. It's just. A lot."

"Do you want to stop?"

"No," he says quickly. "I don't think I want to stop, like, ever."

Brendon nuzzles against his neck. "Am I moving to fast? With the fucking?"

"Maybe," Spencer admits. "I've never really, um, done that. Not that I don’t want to because, well, God, yes, but I just...haven't."

"Are you okay with me just, like, rubbing off against you?"

"Totally," Spencer says.

"Good. Because you're kind of retarded hot."

Spencer blushes and turns his face to the side, eyes closed, but he's pleased. "You, too," he whispers.

They don't say anything else, just arch and rub against each other and the sound Brendon makes when he comes, the low groan in the back of his throat and the way his body actually trembles, is maybe the most amazing thing Spencer's ever witnessed.

They lay in silence for a long time afterwards, just kissing and touching. Spencer's not sure he could walk if he tried, his legs are so shaky and weak. When it starts to get cold, Spencer just pulls his blankets over them. He doesn't want Brendon to ever leave his bed.

"My parents kicked me out," Brendon says softly.

Spencer blinks at him for a little while. He's still having trouble getting his brain to work.

"Or, actually, that makes it sound simpler than it was. I don't talk to my family anymore for, like, a million reasons."

"Is this one of them?" Spencer asks, sliding his hand up Brendon's bare thigh.

"Yeah. But not, like, the only one. Anyway. If you, I know it's totally too early to be planning, like, Thanksgiving and Christmas vacation, just. I won't be going back to Summerlin. So. I don't even know why it matters, why I'm telling you."

"It matters," Spencer tells him. Brendon has tiny freckles across his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. He's got a faint scar on his right eyebrow. His teeth are so perfectly straight that he must have had braces.

Spencer kisses Brendon's straight teeth and he knows it's too soon to ask Brendon to come home with him, but he files it away for when they've known each other longer.

"I don't read the newspaper," Spencer admits.

"Hmm?" Brendon shifts and curls one leg over Spencer's hips, presses in close and hums contentedly.

"I know you have your own column, but I don't really, um, read the news. I figured I'd just put that out there in case you're as touchy about my lack of respect for the art of the newspaper as Ryan is."

Brendon smiles against Spencer's skin and his fingers are cool as they trace over his ribs. "I'm not actually, like, a journalist or anything. I just write music reviews."

Spencer says, "Okay."

"I don't want to get up," Brendon whispers. "I want to stay like this forever."

"This is what I'm saying," says Spencer, and holds him tight.


	2. not!fic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> bunches of not!fic that I just couldn't fit into the first story

They're dozing again, sometimes waking enough to exchange sleepy kisses, when Ryan walks in.

"My eyes," says Ryan, shutting the door behind him.

Brendon laughs and presses his face to Spencer's chest.

"You can't see anything you've never seen before." Spencer tugs the blanket up a little further nonetheless.

"It smells like my car in here."

"Your car actually smells like Zesty Citrus Splash right now."

"Not vanilla?"

"They were out. The only choices were cherry, new car smell, or citrus."

Ryan frowns and drops his backpack next to his desk. "How can they run out of vanilla? That's, like, basic."

"You do realize we're naked under here, right?" Spencer asks. He's pretty sure Ryan knows, but he thinks he should make sure.

"I'm trying not to think about it." Ryan rifles through some papers on his desk, takes a couple of books out of his backpack and puts different ones back in. "I'm going to my Russian Lit study group, and when I get back you're going to be wearing clothes, right?"

"No promises," Spencer tells him.

Ryan rolls his eyes and flips them the bird as he leaves again.

And Brendon and Spencer are dressed when he gets back, but just barely, and only because Brendon has to go to work and start delivering pizzas at six, which he does pretty much every Friday night, delivering pizzas from six o'clock at night until two in the morning, because he works at one of those late-night delivery places.

Also, it's not even his car that he drives around delivering pizzas in because he's a freshman, and freshman can't have cars on campus, and Brendon's way too poor to afford one, anyway. The car actually belongs to the pizza shop, so once he's done with his shift, Brendon has to walk back to campus, which isn't too bad and only takes him about half an hour, but it's starting to get really cold.

Spencer's not very happy about Brendon walking that far in the freezing cold at two o'clock in the morning, so Brendon plays it down, because Spencer's kind of fierce and he has definite opinions about things, but he's never had to make it on his own so he doesn't really understand. Brendon doesn't really mind the walk, and it's not like it's through a dangerous neighborhood, and unlike Spencer he actually _likes_ cold weather, and what's he going to do? Complain that he has to walk half an hour home from a job where the owner's cool enough to pay him under the table so that he can make enough money to live on?

Brendon's financial aid pays for room and board and most of his tuition, but not all of it. And all the money he'd saved up as a kid so the he could afford to go on a mission is already gone, used to pay for his apartment when he left his parents' house, used to pay for food and bills and college application fees.

And now Brendon has to pay a tiny sliver of tuition, which wouldn't be bad if he didn't also have to pay for books, and he's pretty sure he's going to need actual boots to walk across campus in when it really snows, and he's thinking that his winter coat from Vegas is probably not going to be warm enough when it's below zero, even if he does like the cold.

And his meal plan is only for twelve meals a week, and Brendon totally can't live on two meals a day during the week and only dinner on the weekend, he'd die of starvation, so he's got to pay for the cereal and shit he keeps around to eat when he's starving and out of meals for the week, which is another reason that working at a pizza place totally does not suck.

So Spencer's unhappy about this tiny little thing, Brendon walking home from work in the middle of the night, but it really honestly isn't a big deal to Brendon, so he's really surprised one night when he gets off work and Spencer's there waiting for him with, like, hot chocolate, being all nonchalant about it like he just happened to be walking down the street at two o'clock in the morning with two hot chocolates in his hands.

And Spencer doesn't really say anything, just hands Brendon his hot chocolate, which is just the way Spencer is. When he's shy or embarrassed, he totally clams up, which is the opposite of Brendon. When Brendon's shy or embarrassed, he just keeps talking and talking and talking and he can't really stop himself.

But Spencer's kind of quiet on the walk back to Brendon's dorm, and Brendon realizes that it's because Spencer showing up with hot chocolate to walk him home is, like, a _gesture_ , and that Spencer's telling Brendon that he's important in his weird Spencer language.

Brendon just says things out loud, just says things like, "I really like you," or, "You're important to me," or, "I'm kind of in love with you." He hasn't said that last part to Spencer, yet, though. Not because it's not true, because he's pretty sure he really is falling in love with Spencer. He hasn't said it because he doesn't want to freak Spencer out, because Spencer's all reserved and stoic and he blushes easily.

Brendon actually really likes it when Spencer blushes, but he does worry about embarrassing him too much and making Spencer not like him anymore, and as they're walking back to the dorms making stupid conversation in the hushed stillness of the night and drinking their hot chocolates, Brendon realizes that Spencer showing up like that is a gesture, that maybe in Spencer language it means that Spencer's falling in love with him, too, which is amazing.

Brendon's roommate is this hulking giant of a guy who was, like, a football star in his tiny hometown, and who's always angry and kind of rude because he's not settling in well at college. Brendon's tried to invite him along when he goes places with his friends, but Josh doesn't want to make new friends, Josh just wants to hang out with all his friends from high school and he drives the two hours back to his hometown pretty much every weekend which Brendon thinks is kind of sad, but he doesn't mind too much because that means he's usually got the room to himself from Friday night until Monday afternoon.

So Brendon's got his room to himself, and he invites Spencer up, which is, like, not even subtle, he knows. He might as well just say, "We should go have sex, now," which he totally would if he wasn't still trying to be the best version of himself in front of Spencer.

Brendon's not very good at having a boyfriend, which he thinks is totally okay and doesn't worry about too much because it's not like he's ever had any actual practice. He's never dated anybody before as long as he's dated Spencer, and they've only been seeing each other for, like, a month and a half. He was actually really relieved that Spencer'd never had a boyfriend before at all, because that meant he wasn't the only one who didn't know what the hell he was doing.

Spencer's a really good boyfriend, though, like right out of the gate. He totally doesn't get annoyed when Brendon's being a dork and he laughs at Brendon's stupid jokes and he's shy about holding Brendon's hand in public sometimes, but not in a shitty way. Spencer's just shy, especially when it comes to expressing his emotions, so when he's being reserved, Brendon knows it's because of that and not because he's ashamed of Brendon or ashamed of being gay or any of that bullshit.

Brendon kind of dated a couple of guys who were still in the closet with no desire to come out, like, ever, and it was really shitty. He hated feeling like he wasn't good enough for public consumption, which is probably why he didn't date either one of them for longer than a couple of weeks.

So Brendon doesn't really know much about relationships, but he knows sex. He thinks he's pretty good at it, and he really likes having it, and he especially likes having sex with Spencer.

He takes Spencer up to his dorm room, and it's three o'clock in the morning by then and everything is quiet, and he takes Spencer's clothes off and kisses him everywhere and makes Spencer shudder and moan and blush in the good way, because that's Brendon's version of a gesture.

And because gestures aren't really his style, he also says it, is thinking about it as he's sucking Spencer's cock, so he pulls off and kisses the inside of Spencer's thigh, high up where it joins his hip, and he says, "You're so good to me."

Spencer laughs, kind of weak and broken, and his fingers curl through Brendon's hair. He's always gentle with his touches, never yanks Brendon's hair or shoves his head down, even though sometimes Brendon thinks he wouldn't mind.

"I'm kind of in love with you," Brendon says, watching Spencer's face, and Spencer goes completely still and he closes his eyes and he says, "Yeah," so soft Brendon can barely hear it. In Spencer language, that's practically a ticker-tape parade. So Brendon surges up to kiss him and Spencer kisses him back hard and Brendon doesn't think he's ever been so happy.

Thanksgiving sucks. Thanksgiving sucks so hard Brendon can hardly stand it. It's not his first Thanksgiving alone, he's been on his own since the start of his senior year of high school, but at least the first Thanksgiving alone he'd had his rage to keep him company. Now, though, it's been over a year since he's spoken to anyone he's related to, and he's kind of mellowed about it. It's still a sore spot, and he's really thankful that Spencer never brings it up, never makes him talk about it, but it doesn’t hurt as much as it did.

That's why he's so surprised that Thanksgiving sucks as bad as it does. Maybe it's because ninety percent of the entire campus is gone and the only open dining hall is the one in the student union, which is a long walk on an eerily empty campus. And maybe it's because he's stupid in love with Spencer, and Spencer's gone, back to Summerlin, back to Brendon's stupid hometown.

Everything about Thanksgiving hurts, from trying to watch the stupid Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade on TV without thinking about every year he'd watched it with his family, to having to eat by himself since all his friends are gone, to having absolutely nothing to do except spend time alone, inside his own head.

He doesn't mean to think about his family, but he does, and he tortures himself thinking about how they're probably all gathered in the living room and his mom's probably playing the piano. He thinks that everyone's probably there, his brothers and sisters and their spouses and all their kids. He thinks that everybody's probably laughing and happy and that nobody misses him at all. He thinks that they've probably even forgotten he exists. He thinks that probably, not even one of them is looking around wishing he was there. He misses them so much that he can hardly breathe, has to roll onto his back and press his hands to the mattress and concentrate on filling his lungs with air.

He tries not to think about it, tries to think about good things, instead, his friends and music and Spencer. But maybe Spencer's not thinking about him, either. Maybe Spencer's forgotten about him. Maybe all of his friends don't even remember that he exists now that they're happy and warm, back with their families, stuffing themselves with food.

His phone rings and he's curled up on his bed, too busy drowning in self-pity to get up and answer it. It's Greta's ringtone, anyway. He feels good that at least she didn't forget him. His phone rings a couple of more times, Greta's ringtone again, and then Dallon's. His phone beeps to tell him he's got voicemail and he goes up to get his phone, but he doesn't check his voicemail, just takes it back to his bed where he curls up again.

He answers when Spencer calls, he says, "Happy Thanksgiving!" in this totally fake voice.

Spencer says, "Yeah, you too. Are you all right?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" Brendon asks, and he knows he sounds weird, voice tight and sharp. He closes his eyes, says. "I'm having kind of a shitty day. Can I call you back?"

"Yeah," Spencer whispers. "Of course. I miss you."

He's starting to cry and he doesn’t want Spencer to know, so he just says, "Yeah," and hangs up.

He cries hard, buries his face in his pillow so no one can hear him even though everyone else is gone, even though he might be one of maybe four people left in his entire twelve-story dorm. He cries until he's shaking, until his pillow's a mess of snot and tears and he starts to hiccup.

His phone's still in his hand and it buzzes when he gets a text from Spencer. It says, _did I ever tell u abt the time I got stranded on lake mead for hrs? call me if you want to hear the story_.

Brendon curls up on his bed and reads the message again because it doesn't make much sense. He waits until he's stopped crying completely, blows his nose and finally he calls Spencer. He says, "You got stranded on Lake Mead?"

"Dude," Spencer says, "on a jetski. It was epic."

Spencer tells him all about floating in the middle of Lake Mead desperately trying to get the passing boats' attention. Then he tells Brendon a story about the time when he was ten and he and Ryan got caught shoplifting candy bars. That leads, somehow, into the story of how Ryan lost his virginity while still wearing his mad scientist Halloween costume, and Brendon's never heard Spencer say so much at one time before.

Spencer just keeps talking, just keeps telling Brendon all these stupid, hilarious stories, and Brendon doesn't know how Spencer knows it's the right thing, how he knows it's exactly what Brendon needs at the moment, but somehow he does.

"You're kind of amazing," Brendon tells him.

"I'm kind of in love with you," Spencer replies. "Like, a lot. You know that, right? Even though I never say it?"

"Yeah," Brendon replies, and he does, but it's really nice to hear the words.

They talk for so long that Brendon has to plug his phone in so the battery doesn't die, and then he has to put Spencer on speakerphone because his ears are starting to hurt, and then he looks up and sees that it's dawn, that they've actually talked all night long.

His friends just decide that he's not going to spend Christmas break alone in the dorms. They don't even ask him, just tell him he's got the choice of where to go, Chicago or Salt Lake City or Las Vegas or Waco, but he has to pick one and if he won't, they'll chop him into fourths and each take a piece with them.

Actually, Greta's the only one who says she's going to chop him into quarters if he won't decide, but she says it with kind of a crazy grin on her face so in the end he chooses Chicago. He's a little afraid of Ashlee's Baptist family, and he's definitely afraid of Dallon's LDS family, and he doesn't want to just crash in on Spencer's family for three weeks when they don't even know who he is, don't know that he's Spencer's boyfriend or that Spencer even has a boyfriend or that Spencer's even gay.

"I don't know how to tell them," Spencer whispers one night when they're alone in Brendon's dorm room, Josh gone once again for the weekend. "How did you tell your parents?"

Brendon smiles wryly at him. "Do you really want to take advice from _me_ on how to come out to your parents?"

Spencer sighs. "I don't know. Maybe?"

"I came out because I was angry," Brendon admits. "I told them because I wanted to hurt them. And I did. So, you know. Don't do it that way."

Spencer doesn't even tell Brendon that he's really going to do it, going to tell them, until he's already done it. They're sitting in the Union, both of them between classes, and Spencer says, "I talked to my parents last night. About, um, me."

It takes Brendon a couple of seconds to realize what Spencer's saying, and once he does he makes himself stay calm and ask," And?"

Spencer shrugs and looks unhappy. "They're not going to be throwing me a parade when I get home," he says.

The bottom drops out of Brendon's stomach. He doesn't want Spencer to go through the same things he did, and he feels so helpless to stop it, to protect him.

"They're, I mean, they're not going to try to get me cured or anything," Spencer tells him. "I think mostly it was just really unexpected. I think it'll be okay. Or, I don't know. Ryan thinks it'll be okay, so." He huffs out a breath and rolls his shoulders and sets his jaw in the way he does when he doesn't want to talk about something.

And Spencer knew his parents wouldn't be, like, over the moon about it. He knew they'd probably be a little upset. He just hadn't expected them to be so disappointed. His mother had cried and told him it wasn't the life she wanted for him and his father had lapsed into uncomfortable silence before telling Spencer they'd talk about it again when he got back for Christmas.

So between the really awkward, difficult conversations he knows he's going to have with his parents and not being able to spend the holidays with Brendon, Spencer feels like total shit when he leaves for Las Vegas. He's tense and cranky the whole way, snapping at Ryan when he hogs the armrest between their chairs and muttering under his breath about the stupid fucking crying baby that is on a personal mission to pierce Spencer's eardrums.

Ryan gives Spencer his fancy noise-cancelling headphones and his tiny little package of pretzels and half his soda, and by the time the plane touches down in Las Vegas Spencer's somewhat mollified. It's rare that Ryan's the one taking care of Spencer, usually it's the other way around, but Ryan's pretty good at taking care of people when he wants to be.

His parents don't say anything the first night, anyway, just greet him and Ryan at the airport with giant hugs and take them home and feed them. Spencer's mom worries that he's lost too much weight since he's been gone, but he thinks of it as a good thing. He likes not being the fat kid anymore.

He's also grown a couple of inches, so his mom gives him money to go clothes shopping and get actual pants that don't stop at his ankles and will stay up without a belt. He and Ryan go to the mall on their third day home, and Spencer could spend the entire day there, but Ryan hates the mall at Christmas and makes them leave after a couple of hours.

He drives them to a park in a part of Summerlin that Spencer doesn’t know very well and they sit on the swings and after a while Spencer asks what they're doing there.

"Recon," Ryan tells him, and tips his chin towards a house across the street from the park. The house looks like Christmas threw up all over it, with decorations and lights and actual Santa and reindeer statues on the roof.

Spencer says, "It looks like Christmas threw up over there."

Ryan says, "That's Brendon's house."

Spencer just breathes really slowly and he doesn't want to be there anymore.

"He gave me this," Ryan says, pulling a thick envelope out of his pocket. "He wanted me to deliver it. I don't know why he didn't just put it in the mail."

Spencer takes the envelope from Ryan's hand. The only thing written on the outside is, _To Mom and Dad_ in Brendon's handwriting. "Why didn't he give it to me?" he asks.

"He probably thought you'd tell his mom to go fuck herself."

Spencer nods. It's a definite possibility. Brendon hasn't told him every detail, but he's said enough. Spencer knows how hard it was for Brendon to tell his family the truth about not believing in God. He knows how hard it was for him to turn away from the church. He knows how hard it was for him to tell them he was gay. He knows how hard it is for Brendon, still, to live with how easily they turned their backs on him.

"So go deliver it so we can leave," Spencer says.

Ryan says, "Fuck," and leans his head against one of the swing's support chains. Ryan hates family drama more than pretty much anything.

"Fine," says Spencer, and he gets up and stalks across the park, jogs across the empty street, walks up the driveway and is halfway there when he starts to panic a little bit. He doesn't know what to say. He doesn't even know if it's actually Brendon's house. He wants to turn around, only Ryan's watching him, and there's a wreath on the front door that says _The Uries_ on the top, and there are shiny little tin presents nestled into the wreath with names on their gift tags, and the smallest one says _Brendon_ on it.

Spencer rings the doorbell and he hates Ryan irrationally and is so uncomfortable he wants to crawl out of his skin, so when nobody comes to the door, he puts the envelope on the welcome mat and turns to go.

He's just stepping off the porch when the front door opens, but he doesn't stop walking, not until he's practically at the street and a woman's voice behind him is saying, "Wait, wait, please!"

Spencer wants to keep walking, but she sounds sort of heartbroken and terrified, so he stops and turns around, and he sees Brendon's mom running towards him, the letter clutched in her hands.

"Is he okay?" she asks, breathless. Her eyes are just like his, huge and dark brown, and she's tiny, she barely comes up to Spencer's shoulder, and she's barefoot and she doesn't have a jacket on over her thin cotton turtleneck with little holly sprigs all over it, and it's warmer than it is in the Midwest, but December in Vegas is still really cold. "Is Brendon okay?" she asks, and she's shivering.

Spencer nods once.

"Is he here?" She's looking over Spencer's shoulder, then around her desperately. He sees her squint at Ryan, still sitting on the swingset in the park, and he sees the pain and disappointment on her face when she realizes he's not Brendon, and Spencer has a really, really hard time hating her. There's very little chance that he's actually going to tell her to go fuck herself now.

"Where is he?" she asks.

"Not here," Spencer says. He doesn't know how much Brendon wants her to know. "Not, um, not in Nevada anymore."

She nods and a gust of wind catches the pages in her hand and some of them get away, and suddenly she's frantic, running after the pages of the letter, and Spencer helps her, and Ryan comes across the street, too, grabbing the one piece of paper that had blown his way.

Brendon's mom shivers in the freezing cold wind, and she tells them they should come inside. Both Ryan and Spencer say no, shake their heads, make any excuses they can think of, but in the end she just looks at them with her huge brown eyes and says, "Please?" and they both agree.

She makes them hot chocolate, the real kind you make on the stove with milk and everything. Spencer's only ever had instant hot chocolate before.

It's so awkward. Spencer doesn't know what to say, and it's not like Ryan's going to start making conversation, and the whole house is bright and cheerful. There's a huge Christmas tree in the den, he can see it from the kitchen, and there are family pictures on all the walls. There are those picture frames that hold every single one of a kid's school pictures in a circle, and then in the center there's the senior picture, and Spencer looks at them, at Brendon's brothers and sisters, and he gets to the one for Brendon but there's not a senior picture in the center because, of course, he probably never got one taken.

So they sit there, awkward and silent at the kitchen table, and Spencer keeps his eyes on his mug of hot chocolate because Mrs. Urie is reading the letter over and over again and she's got this brave face on, the same one Brendon gets when he's upset and he wants to cry but he refuses to let himself. And every time he looks up at Ryan, Ryan's glaring at him like he hates Spencer more than anything in the entire world for getting them into this mess.

Spencer says, "We should go."

"Yes," says Ryan, standing up so fast he almost tips his chair over.

"Stay," says Brendon's mom. "You should stay for dinner, I can make spaghetti or chicken or--"

"You should call him," Spencer says.

She looks down at the letter, smoothes her hands over it, and she whispers, "He didn't give me any way, he didn't even give me his phone number."

Spencer's still thinking of what he should say to that when Ryan grabs a pen off the counter and writes Brendon's number down for her. "It was nice to meet you," he says, and he grabs Spencer's arm and hauls him out of the house, and when Spencer looks back he sees that Mrs. Urie is already up and standing by the phone.

"Holy shit," says Ryan as they duck down against the cold and run across the park to where Ryan had parked Spencer's mom's minivan.

"Holy shit," Spencer echoes.

"I mean," says Ryan. "That was just. Oh, my God, I hate you so bad."

"It wasn't my fault! You were supposed to deliver the letter, not me!"

"You weren't supposed to, like, ask to go in!"

"I didn't! You couldn't say no to her, either."

"Fuck," says Ryan, and they finally make it into the minivan.

Spencer leans back in the passenger seat and covers his face with his hands. "Brendon's going to hate me," he whispers.

Ryan shrugs and starts the minivan. "If she never calls him, he'll never even know."

Spencer calls Brendon, but it goes to voicemail. "Do you think they're talking right now?" he asks.

"Maybe."

When they get back to Spencer's house, his mom wants to see all the clothes they got. He refuses to try everything on for her, but he does let her look through the bags.

"What's wrong?" his mother asks when Spencer's less than enthusiastic about the amazing snow boots he found for 60% off.

"We went to go deliver a letter to Spencer's boyfriend's estranged parents," Ryan tells her. "She invited us in for hot chocolate. It was awkward. The situation, not the hot chocolate. The hot chocolate was really good."

"Oh," says Spencer's mother quietly. "Your. You have, um, you have a boyfriend?"

"You didn't tell her about Brendon?" Ryan asks. "Okay. And again it's awkward. I'm going to go away now and do some sort of thing that's not here."

Spencer sits down next to his mom on the couch in the living room. "I kind of wanted you to get used to the idea of me being gay before I brought Brendon into it," he says.

"Is he a nice boy?" she asks.

Spencer nods, and since she doesn't seem especially freaked out about it, he says, "Yeah, he's nice. I really like him."

"Ryan said he and his parents are estranged?"

Spencer nods. "Yeah. For over a year, now. They kicked him out. I would have said they were monsters before, but after meeting his mom, I don't know." He tells her about the letter and Brendon's mom running after him in her bare feet and the way she'd just kept reading the letter over and over again, fingers tracing over the words.

Spencer's mom hugs him so tight it's actually uncomfortable, and she's teary eyed but she promises him that she loves him and that she's not angry or disappointed and that even if things get rocky she and his dad will never, ever turn their backs on him.

And then when his dad gets home from work, he hears his parents talking in hushed tones and they knock on Spencer's door and say they want to talk to him.

It's just as uncomfortable and awkward as he thought it would be, and he loses his temper a couple of times because, yeah, okay, he's eighteen, but he's not an idiot. He knows his own mind. He knows who he's attracted to. He starts to get really pissed off when it feels like his mom's giving him a fucking pop quiz, like she's trying to trick him, like if she just pokes the right button he'll say, "Holy shit, you're right, I'm not gay, I'm really just confused."

His mom keeps asking him how he knows, how he's sure, and he finally just snaps and says, "I don't know. How did you know that you liked dick?"

"Spencer," his father says harshly.

"Well, what kind of question is that?" Spencer asks him. "How am I sure? Because I'm sure. Because I have enough brain function to be aware of who I am and am not attracted to. Christ."

Spencer's mom sags against the wall and rubs her forehead. "I'm sorry," she says.

"I'm sorry I snapped at you," Spencer tells her. "I'm just. I know, okay? I'm sure. And it's not like this is the major defining factor in my life or anything, but it's part of it, it's part of me. So." He shrugs.

His mom hugs him again, just as hard as before. His dad hugs him, too. Spencer's exhausted, and he's so grateful when Ryan comes up with a giant bowl of popcorn and stupid action movies and Spencer can just stare at the television and watch things blow up and not have to think.

He tries to call Brendon again, but it doesn't even ring, just goes straight to voicemail. He sends him a text saying, _miss you, call me back_.

For two days, Brendon's phone goes to voicemail and he doesn't return any of Spencer's texts.

"He hates me," Spencer whispers. He hasn't slept the entire night, and now the sun's starting to come up.

Ryan's half asleep, curled up against him, and he takes Spencer's phone and tosses it to the floor. "Too early," he says.

Spencer looks up at the ceiling and listens to Ryan snore and tries to fight the sick ache in his belly telling him that Brendon's never going to speak to him again.

Then just after lunch, the doorbell rings and Spencer answers it and it's Brendon, right there on his front porch, and he's smiling so wide and he takes Spencer's face in his hands and he kisses him over and over again.

Spencer kisses back, so freaking happy that Brendon doesn't hate him that he's laughing as they kiss, and Brendon's laughing, and it's not until one of his sisters says, "Oh my God," that Spencer realizes that Brendon's backed him up into the hallway far enough that everyone still at the kitchen table finishing up lunch is watching them.

Ryan takes a bite of one of the Christmas cookies the girls had baked the night before and he says, "This is the kind of awkward I'm okay with."

Brendon's blushing and embarrassed and he presses his face to Spencer's shoulder and Spencer says, "What are you even doing here?" and Brendon says, "You got me here, you went to my Mom and she called me and I didn't even know I wanted it but I did and you're amazing, you're so amazing, she said you went over there to talk to her and--"

Spencer kisses him again. He knows his mom and his sisters are watching but he doesn't even care, and it's not like Ryan's never seen it before.

"Wait," says one of Spencer's sisters. "Wait, so Spencer's gay, now? Is that what all the drama's been about lately?"

"He looks pretty gay," says his other sister.

"He's _really_ gay," says Ryan. "They're like this pretty much all the time."

Spencer pulls away and tries to compose himself. It's just that he's so relieved and Brendon looks so happy and his mouth is so red that Spencer wants to kiss him forever. He does pull away, though, and Brendon's still blushing and he ducks his head down and keeps his eyes on the floor when Spencer says, "So, um, this is Brendon."

"It's nice to meet you," says Spencer's mother. And she's a little tense, but she's not rude or cold at all, she just seems like she's a little shell shocked from having to watch Spencer make out with a guy right there in front of her. Spencer makes a mental note to keep the PDA to a minimum for everybody's sake, his included.

Spencer finds out later--hours later, since his mom's a good hostess and insists on feeding Brendon and engaging him in conversation and inviting him to watch _A Christmas Story_ with them all in the living room, so it's hours before Spencer and Brendon can sneak off to talk privately--that Brendon packed so quickly after his mother called him that he forgot his phone charger in Chicago, which is why he never answered Spencer's texts.

"I thought you hated me," Spencer admits, pulling Brendon close. And it's not like they're actually anywhere private. They're just in the laundry room, and the door doesn't have a lock, but at least they're the only two people there. Spencer's mom has been watching him all afternoon, even when they were watching the movie every time he looked over, she was looking right at him, right at Brendon curled up next to him on the couch.

Brendon's sitting on top of the washer and Spencer's standing between his thighs, his hands on Brendon's hips, and their foreheads are tipped together as they talk, and it's such a relief. Spencer didn't realize until right then how much he physically missed having Brendon near him, how this whole level of tension and loss is gone now that Brendon's there close enough to touch.

Brendon tells him all about his mom's phone call, how scared he'd been to see his old phone number pop up on his phone after a year and a half of nothing at all. He tells Spencer that he'd been terrified that something horrible had happened, that somebody had died, had actually thought that there would be no other reason for his family to get in touch with him. Then it turned out that his mother had actually missed him, that she still loved him, that his whole family still loved him and they wanted him to come home.

"I thought you hated me for talking to her," Spencer whispers.

Brendon shakes his head and kisses Spencer softly. "No. No, I wouldn't do that to you, Spence. If I'm mad, if I'm ever that mad, I promise I'll tell you. I won't ever just cut off contact with you, okay?"

Spencer says okay and he feels relieved and he wants so much. He wants to kiss Brendon over and over again and he wants to be alone with him, really alone with him in a way that's impossible right then. "My family," he says, pulling away when he hears his mother's voice just down the hall.

Brendon nods and looks simultaneously amused and disappointed. "Yeah," he says. "Mine, too."

Spencer resigns himself to not having sex until they're back at school in a couple weeks, and it really sucks. He kisses Brendon as many times as he can before Brendon has to leave, has to get home in time for dinner. He gets Brendon's parents' number, and gives Brendon his number because, of course, Brendon's phone is still dead and Brendon never memorized Spencer's number, just relied on his phone to always have it.

It's two days before Christmas, so things start getting hectic and they don't have time to see each other, and Spencer's kind of glad. Not that he can't see Brendon, but that Brendon's so busy with his family.

He'd never asked about Brendon's family, had straight up told him, "I'm not going to ask you about them, about what happened, but that doesn't mean you can't tell me things if you want to." And Brendon had, had told him about the many things that led up to their final separation. The God thing. The drinking thing. The gay thing. The weed thing. The music thing. And finally, the most crucial thing, the "No, seriously, I'm not going on a mission," thing.

Spencer can't imagine spending two years in a strange place with strange people, cut off from his family, cut off from the world.

Brendon had told him about a lot of it, most of it Spencer suspects, but not all. Brendon had told him and he'd sometimes pretended to be okay with it and sometimes pretended to be over it and sometimes pretended that he couldn't care less, but it had just been pretend. He'd cared, it had hurt, and Spencer hadn't been able to do anything about it.

So Spencer's glad that Brendon's busy with his family, smiles against the phone when Brendon tells him about being overwhelmed with all the hugs he's gotten in the past couple of days. He's got a brand new niece who's only four months old and Brendon's so enchanted with her, tells Spencer about the way she smiles at him and holds his finger really tight and laughs and drools and is the smartest, most amazing four month old girl in the entire world.

The day after Christmas, Brendon calls him early. Spencer's still asleep when his phone rings and he answers it groggily out of habit, mind not yet engaged.

"Can you come get me?" Brendon asks, and his voice sounds so small that Spencer's immediately awake. He doesn't even ask why, just says he'll be there as soon as he can and makes it in under ten minutes.

Brendon's waiting for him at the end of his driveway, and he's shivering and curled in on himself and he doesn't even wait for Spencer to pull the minivan to a complete stop, just opens the door when it's still rolling and says, "Go," and Spencer does.

Brendon's so tense, so quiet and still. Spencer finally asks, "Where do you want to go?"

"I don't care. Not your house. Not anywhere that there's anyone besides you and me. Can you just drive for a while?"

"Sure," Spencer says.

After a while, Brendon starts to relax. He takes a deep breath and leans forward to fiddle with the radio, checking all of Spencer's mom's presets and then giving up and just spinning the dial. They end up listening to a _Norteño_ station. He knows Brendon is inexplicably drawn to the accordion.

"So, I remembered something important this morning," Brendon says finally.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. I remembered that I left, that they kicked me out, because when I'm alone with my parents all we do is fight."

"Oh," Spencer says softly.

"We're kind of. It's kind of fucked up. I felt like I was fifteen years old again, the way we were screaming at each other. Me and my dad. I fight with my mom, too, but mostly with my dad. We're both really stubborn. And stupid. God, the fight this morning was so stupid. They pray before meals, my whole family does, and I don't believe in it so I just stay quiet, stay out of it, but he thought I was being disrespectful when I wouldn't pray over breakfast this morning and I thought he was being a controlling asshole and it just kind of escalated from there."

Spencer drives them to The Original Pancake House, which is his favorite place for breakfast. He gets the giant, fruit-filled baked apple pancake and Brendon gets the coconut waffle with a side of sliced bananas and they eat in comfortable silence, feet touching under the table.

"Do you want to go to the mall?" Spencer asks as Brendon's finishing up his coffee. "Fashion Show's probably open."

Brendon puts his coffee cup down and toys with it for a moment, then says, "I want to go someplace we can be alone."

Spencer nods. He wants that, too. But his house is out, and Brendon's house is definitely out, and Ryan's old house is still on the market, sitting empty and unsold, and Spencer still has keys, but the idea of taking Brendon there is horrifying. He says, "Will you freak out if I take you to a motel?"

Brendon shakes his head. He's still looking at his coffee cup but there's a smile forming at the edges of his mouth. "No."

Spencer's never actually rented a motel room before. He thinks maybe it's too early to check in. He voices his concerns as he starts his mom's minivan.

"Head towards Freemont," Brendon tells him, looking out the window. "I know a couple that rent by the hour."

Spencer raises his eyebrows.

"I've never actually rented a room by the hour, but I know where they are," Brendon says.

Spencer pulls into the parking lot of the first motel they see with a sign advertising their hourly rates. "I feel kind of like I'm going to get arrested just walking in the front door," he admits.

"I can--" Brendon starts.

"No," Spencer says, shaking his head. "I'll do it."

The woman in the front office looks like she could be friends with his mother. She's in her fifties, wearing khakis and a sweater set, hair in a pale brown bob. He takes a deep breath. "I, um," he says, trying not to look at the sex toys for sale displayed in a glass case at the register. "I need a room."

"Cash only," she says, pointing to a sign on the back wall that says the exact same thing. She seems really, really bored.

"Okay," says Spencer.

"We're running a Christmas special. Four hours and a pleasure pack for thirty dollars."

"That, um, yes," says Spencer. He takes out his wallet. "That would be good." He kind of wants to die of embarrassment. The only thing stopping him is how completely bored the woman seems, how this seems to be completely normal to her. He gives her thirty dollars, she gives him a room key and a small black plastic bag. Spencer doesn't open it to look inside.

"Oh, my God," he says when he comes out of the front office. Brendon's standing outside the minivan bouncing on his toes.

"Which room are we in?" Brendon asks.

Spencer looks at the key. It's the old-fashioned kind, an actual key on a giant plastic ring instead of an electronic swipe card. "Eight," he says.

Brendon nods and they head down to room eight and Spencer says, "Oh, my God," again. "The lady in there looked like she could have been friends with my mom. They're running a Christmas special."

"Yeah?" Brendon asks as Spencer opens the door to room eight. It smells like cigarettes and Lysol. "Wait, they have a Christmas special?"

"Four hours and a pleasure pack," Spencer tells him.

"What's a pleasure pack?"

"I don't know. I think this." He hands Brendon the plastic bag.

Brendon opens the bag and grins. "Awesome," he says.

"What's in it?" Spencer asks.

"Condoms. I think maybe some lube. Maybe a cock ring?" Brendon pulls something out of the bag. It's a strange, smushed plastic thing in cellophane, hot pink and circular with what looks like a tiny Koosh ball on one side.

"What is that?" Spencer asks.

"I'm pretty sure it's a cock ring. You put it on with the nubbly part on top so it, like, hits her clit. I think."

"Weird," says Spencer.

Brendon nods and sets the thing down on the nightstand. The room is small, just enough space for a bed and a nightstand and a scarred, tilting dresser.

Spencer says, "Holy shit. We're in, like, a hooker motel."

Brendon laughs and grins at him and says, "Yup," and yanks the garish floral bedspread down, exposing the sheets. "It looks clean, though." He takes his jacket off and lays it on top of the dresser. There's an open closet but there are no hangers. He takes his sweater off, too, opens one of the dresser drawers and places it inside.

"What are you doing?" Spencer asks him.

Brendon grins at him and unbuttons his jeans. "What do you think? Clothes off."

Spencer takes a deep breath and starts to undress, then stops. He takes his phone out of his pocket.

"Please tell me you're not going to make a call right now," Brendon says. He's naked and has climbed onto the bed, is kneeling on it and running a hand over his stomach. His cock is still soft, but Spencer can see it starting to swell with arousal.

"No, no, just. Setting an alarm. So we're out in time."

"You think we can last four hours?" Brendon asks, eyes sparkling.

Spencer thinks of entire Sundays spent in Brendon's dorm room, going at it over and over again with bouts of sleep and desperate kissing in between. He says, "Yeah, probably."

"Probably," Brendon agrees.

Kissing Brendon is the easiest thing in the world. Spencer doesn't even have to think about it, it just comes naturally, like it's something he's been doing his entire life. And sex is starting to come just as easy. He's never scared anymore--nervously excited, sure, but never really afraid. He trusts himself, now, trusts Brendon, trusts the way they are together. He trusts that when he slides his hands over Brendon's ribs, Brendon will laugh and press into Spencer's touch. He trusts that even though he tries not to, even though he always says, "Sorry, sorry," and means it, every time Spencer takes Brendon's cock into his mouth, Brendon's hips will jerk up to meet him.

"Sorry, sorry," Brendon gasps, winding his fingers through Spencer's hair.

Spencer smiles at him and goes back to sucking his cock. He knows to expect these things, now, knows to drape his arm over Brendon's hips, to hold him down.

He knows it won't be long before Brendon's grabbing at him and demanding something. Getting his cock sucked makes Brendon frantic, makes him want more, and sometimes he'll grab at Spencer and plead, "Kiss me," or, "Come here." Sometimes it's just, "Oh, God, please, please Spencer, please," with no specific directions given. There in the motel room, he winds his fingers tight in Spencer's hair and pulls and grabs at his shoulder and says, "I need you to fuck me."

Spencer kisses his way up Brendon's stomach, noses at the hairs below his navel, trails his tongue up to his sternum, laps at his nipples. he sheets smell like the grainy pink soap flakes they washed their hands with in elementary school.

Brendon whispers, "Spencer. Please."

Spencer nips at Brendon's skin, looks up at him and says, "You're so bossy."

"I said please." Brendon's voice is wrecked, raw and gritty like he's been the one sucking cock the past ten minutes.

Spencer smiles and pushes up far enough so they can kiss. Then he reaches out and grabs the black plastic bag and dumps the contents onto the bed next to them. There's a strip of three condoms, a plastic pillow of flavored lube, and a dental dam.

"They're red," Spencer says after he rips open one of the condom packets.

Brendon's already turning, already propping himself up on his elbows and knees. He snaps open the lube and the overwhelming scent of artificial watermelon hits Spencer's nose. Spencer's about to comment on it, but Brendon's fingering himself and that will never not be one of the hottest things Spencer's ever seen. He could watch Brendon touch himself for hours, could probably get off just from looking at him, the way he touches himself, the way he holds himself as he twists his fingers inside.

Spencer slicks on the condom quickly and kneels between Brendon's legs. Brendon says, "Do it hard, okay?" And Spencer says, "Okay," because he trusts Brendon to always tell him what he needs.

They have great sex. They pretty much always have great sex. Even when it's funny or embarrassing or one of them falls off the bed (Brendon does this at least once a month), it's still really good. So they have good sex and they snuggle in the skanky motel until it's time for them to leave and in a week they head back to school where Brendon's suddenly got a single room because his old roommate, Josh, is transferring to a community college in his little hometown.

And then they live happily ever after. Except for how after a couple of years, they break up. There are a lot of reasons. Partly Brendon's a little insecure because he thinks he's holding Spencer back from really experiencing life since Brendon's the only guy he's ever dated even a little. And Spencer doesn't think that's the case at all and he doesn't take the questions about it too well. The conversation goes a little like this:

"Do you ever wish, I mean, do you ever look at other guys and wonder if you're missing out?"

"Fuck you."

And then Ryan drops out of school because he's in love with this girl named Tamara who he meets at the farmer's market where she's doing tarot card readings. She wants to hitchhike across the country and, like, follow jam bands around and smoke weed and Ryan goes with her. Spencer thinks it's the stupidest fucking thing he's ever heard, and Brendon's all, "No, he has to fly free, you know? Like, he has to follow his heart." And Spencer's all, "First of all, he's not following his heart, he's following his _dick_ , and second of all, hitchhiking in this day and age is suicidal, and third, jam bands suck, and fourth, he needs to grow the fuck up and think about his future instead of smoking up in some dirty RV surrounded by hippies." So they fight about that, too.

And they fight about a bunch of stuff, small things and big things, and they break up. It's really messy. They're juniors by then, and they're living together, and they share all the same friends, and nobody wants to take sides.

Brendon moves out, and Spencer doesn't even know where he's moved _to_ and he doesn't ask even though he knows all his friends would tell him if he did. It's brutal and it hurts and he hates it so much, hates how tired he is all the time and how sad he is and how it aches in his belly and his chest and just won't seem to stop.

His family is devastated. They _loved_ Brendon and when Spencer calls his mom to tell her that they broke up, that Brendon's moved out, she actually cries. Spencer doesn't cry. He kind of wants to, he thinks he'd probably feel better if he did, but the tears won't come.

He grows a beard and he goes on with his life. He's thankful the business buildings and the music buildings are on the other side of campus from one another so he never has to worry about running into Brendon accidentally. Weeks go buy and he survives, and then it's been months. Greta tells him he should start dating.

"Is Brendon dating?" he asks.

Greta looks away from him and won't answer, and he knows that means yes.

He starts going on dates, mostly with guys Greta fixes him up with. They're okay. He sleeps with a few of them, and that's okay, too. It's not amazing. He mostly just goes on dates because it's what's expected of him. If it was completely up to him, he'd probably just stay at home being grumpy and eating his dinner in front of the TV while watching _Hoarding: Buried Alive_. Spencer loves _Hoarding: Buried Alive_. He loves _Sister Wives_. He loves _My Strange Addiction_. He loves the entire TLC lineup, except for _Toddlers and Tiaras_ which fills him with homicidal rage.

One night he's sitting home alone watching TLC and somebody knocks and when he opens the door, Ryan's standing there with a backpack over one shoulder. His hair is getting long and he's kind of dirty and Spencer says, "You smell like hippie."

"Jesus Christ, I know," Ryan says. "I will actually pay to use your shower. Only, I don't have any money. I can barter for it. I have goo balls."

"I really hope that's not a medical condition," Spencer says, and Ryan laughs, and Spencer tells him to go take a shower before he stinks up Spencer's entire apartment with patchouli.

"I'm not wearing patchouli," Ryan tells him as he turns on the water in Spencer's shower.

"All hippies wear patchouli. You're just too stoned to remember putting it on this morning," Spencer calls after him.

While Ryan showers, Spencer makes spaghetti for dinner and they sit down in front of the TV to eat and they watch _I Didn't Know I Was Pregnant_. It's maybe Spencer's favorite TLC show of them all.

They talk during the commercials. Ryan and Tamara broke up after she stole all his cash and gave him crabs. Then he spent some time on a dairy farm in Vermont--

"Wait, like, seriously?" Spencer asks him. "You worked with cows?"

"Goats," Ryan says.

"That's so fucked up."

Then Ryan went to New York because he'd never been but he hated it so he hitched a ride down to Florida with these Slovakian mimes--

"You're making that up."

"I'm not. They were from Trnava. Mime is the universal language."

"Bullshit is the universal language. There's not really a place called Trnava, is there?""

And in Florida he tried his hand at picking oranges but that didn't even last a full day since it was really hard work and instead he got a job selling shitty plastic souvenirs to tourists until he got fired for sleeping with his boss' eighteen year-old daughter--

"That's the only part of this whole story I believe."

And then he spent the last of his cash to buy a Greyhound bus ticket back to Spencer. Ryan's in the middle of telling Spencer about the born-again ex-con who'd spent nearly three days trying to convince Ryan to accept Jesus Christ as his personal savior when he pauses and looks at the TV. "Holy shit," he says. "Did that lady just have a baby in a toilet?"

"They're always having babies in toilets," Spencer tells him. "It's awesome."

It's only later that night when Spencer's getting the blankets for the pull-out couch for Ryan to sleep on that Ryan looks around and asks, "Where's Brendon?"

And Spencer's throat constricts and he hugs the blankets tight against him and, of course, that's when he finally cries.

So Ryan moves in and goes about getting back into school to finish up his last two semesters and Spencer goes on with his life and sometimes he sees Brendon across campus and it still really hurts so he never tells anyone about it and he never waves or says hello.

Then Dallon and Greta get engaged, and they throw a huge party to celebrate. "Brendon's going to be there," Greta tells him. "And you're going to be there, too, and you're both going to be civil, right?"

"Of course," Spencer says, because it's not like he and Brendon hate each other. He doesn't hate Brendon, anyway. He kind of wishes he did because it would maybe hurt less when he shows up at the engagement party and sees that Brendon's there with a date.

Ryan slings his arm over Spencer's shoulders and says, "How about we tell them that I finally saw the light and started liking dick and we're getting married in Iowa in the fall?"

And Spencer laughs and tells him he's an idiot and decides that he's going to do his best to politely avoid Brendon and his date, and if he can't avoid them, he's going to stay polite and be nice and not comment on the fact that Brendon's date has buck teeth.

He can't avoid Brendon or his date because Greta and Dallon are so happy that they want to share their happiness with their best friends, which means having all their best friends close all night, which means that Spencer ends up sitting on the couch between Greta and Brendon's date, whose name is Chaz.

Chaz is a virtuoso cellist, apparently, and he's witty and charming. He's obviously crazy about Brendon, and Spencer hates him so much he's seriously reconsidering the whole "getting married to Ryan in Iowa" thing just out of spite.

Towards the end of the night Spencer's a little drunk and he needs some air so he slips onto Greta and Dallon's back porch to hide, but Brendon's already there sneaking a cigarette.

Spencer takes the cigarette from his hand and says, "I couldn't handle it if you got cancer," and Brendon says, "Spence," and then they're kissing.

Kissing Brendon's just as easy as it's always been even though it hurts, even though it amplifies the ache in Spencer's chest even as he never wants to let go. He says, "I miss you."

Brendon burrows closer against him, presses his face to Spencer's hair and whispers, "Me, too."

They cling to each other just out of sight of their friends, out of sight of Brendon's date, and Spencer feels kind of bad for Chaz, but not bad enough to let go. They talk in stop-starts, sometimes running over each other's words, sometimes not saying anything.

Brendon says, "We can't," and Spencer says, "Why?"

Spencer says, "I'm sorry," and Brendon says, "Me, too," says, "I hate this, I hate not talking to you. I want, if we don't, if we can't be, I want to be your friend, Spencer. If we can't be more I want to be friends because I hate not having you in my life."

Spencer says, "I don't want to be your friend. I don't know if I could be just your friend. I want us to--"

"But it didn't work," says Brendon.

"So we try again," Spencer says.

"Just like that?" Brendon asks.

Spencer says, "We'll never know unless we try. I want to try."

And Brendon says, "I want that, too." He says, "I like your beard," and Spencer smiles.

So they try, and it works. It's rocky at first but they work at it and they make it work. And even when they're back together, even when things are good they still fight and there are still shitty decisions they have to make and problems to deal with, but whatever. They're in it together and in the end, they really do live (mostly) happily ever after.


End file.
